A Guy Walks Into a Bar
by deepfriedcake
Summary: A chance encounter between two men with one thing in common: a dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty named Lorelai.


**Author's Notes:** I was looking through my list of FF-posted stories and was surprised to see I'd never shared this one. It's a weird one because it doesn't feature Lorelai or Luke. It doesn't even take place in Stars Hollow. Instead it deals with a chance encounter between two original characters, Hank, the world-weary bartender from "The Joke's On You," and Daniel, the handsome Utahn hand-holder from "It's All Coming Back to Me Now." Both of these guys mean a lot to me, and this story gives them the chance to meet, no matter how implausible that may be. After all, they are from two wholly different alternate universes. Unless string theory and a TARDIS are involved, there's no way they can co-exist. However, the glory of fanfic is that I am all-powerful. If I want them to meet, they can. Behold this story.

 **A word of advice:** If you haven't read both "The Joke's On You" and "It's All Coming Back to Me Now," this one isn't going to make any sense to you at all! Also, I doubt that I hear from many of you, which is fine - like I said, this is a weird one!

* * *

Litchfield, Connecticut, is not a very big town in itself, but add in the population of the surrounding area, throw in the busloads of tourists exploring historical sites during most of the year, and the natives can almost get lost in the crowd.

The Liar's Club, one of Litchfield's most popular destinations, was lucky in many aspects. A clever owner had blessed the restaurant with a cute name which served to lure people in, hoping that they could at least score a matchbook to show the folks back home. It was located downtown, close to the overlapping historical trails. Most fortunate of all, it had a good chef and great word of mouth, ensuring that the dining room was almost always filled.

Hank Ferguson had been the bartender at the Liar's Club for nearly six years. He'd grown up in Litchfield, gone away to raise a little hell, and had returned home battered and much wiser. The little town that he once thought so dull had welcomed him back, and this wiser Hank no longer mistook routine for boring. Now that he was a single parent, routine seemed golden. Routine equaled stability, and stability meant the judge came down on your side.

During his years of employment, Hank had perfected his own game of people watching. Usually before he served the second drink, Hank could guess profession, state of residence and the marital status of the drinker. Lawyers and the recently divorced were so easy he didn't even count them anymore. He'd seen enough significant looks from one end of the bar to the other to know better than the participants themselves when the hook-up was going to take place.

But today…Today he was annoyed. He could already sense that the guy who had just taken a seat at the far end of the bar was going to stump him.

Definitely not a tourist, especially not in that suit, which had obviously been tailored to fit his tall frame and broad shoulders. He was so Calvin Klein-ad good looking that even Hank took notice. In fact, Belinda, one of the servers, stopped in the midst of busing a table and straight up ogled the oblivious guy.

 _Cowboy._ The unbidden thought popped into Hank's head as the stranger tried to adjust his long limbs more comfortably into the space. He snorted contemptuously at himself for such a ridiculous thought. Cowboy? In _that_ suit? Not bloody likely. Football player, maybe. He certainly had the shoulders for it.

"Welcome to the Liar's Club," Hank drawled out, positioning himself in front of the stranger. His eyes swept over him, looking for anything that might give him a clue about the guy's story. "What're you drinking today?"

The man's head jerked up, almost as though he hadn't realized he was sitting at a bar. "Oh, um, a beer, I guess." He pushed a hand through his dark brown hair and then waved it casually towards the spigots behind the counter. "Whatever's on tap."

"Coming right up," Hank replied pleasantly.

"No, wait." Hank had only taken a step away when the stranger spoke again. "Make it Scotch. On the rocks," he added, sounding more decisive.

"Sure," Hank said agreeably. He poured the drink and presented it to the guy.

"Thanks," the stranger mumbled, staring at the liquid in the glass, but making no move to pick it up.

Hank nodded and moved off. He busied himself with prepping the bar for the onslaught of happy hour patrons sure to pour through the door a bit later in the afternoon. Right now they were experiencing the daily lull and he, the stranger, and the lustful Belinda practically had the place to themselves.

 _Not a lawyer,_ Hank decided. The expensive, perfectly-fitted suit would indicate that, but somehow Hank didn't think that was the case. He'd been traveling, Hank surmised, probably for business. The suit was wrinkled and a dark scruff of whiskers was just visible on his cheeks. He seemed almost morose as he continued to stare down into the ice cubes, his fingers gripping the sides of the glass.

It occurred to Hank that he might be in town for a funeral. That would explain the whiff of sadness about him. A momentary flash of sympathy bonded him to the man at the end of the bar. He strolled over to check on him again, which now seemed the least he could do.

"Anything else I can get for you?" he asked kindly.

Once again the man jumped, startled. "No. No. I'm fine." He seemed to suddenly realize he hadn't touched his drink, so he raised it and gulped down a mouthful. "Thanks," he added, his voice sounding sort of raspy after the burning swallow.

"Well, let me know if there is." Hank hated to move away without learning something more about the guy, but there really wasn't anything else he could say to prolong their exchange. He nodded again and prepared to leave the man to his thoughts.

"Say, are you familiar with the area?"

Hank spun around, pleased to get another shot at figuring the guy out. "Sure do. Born and raised here."

The guy sighed. He looked off to the side, one long finger rubbing nervously over his upper lip, and Hank's eyebrows arched slightly. Nerves didn't really fit in with the funeral scenario.

"I'm looking for a town called Stars Hollow." The guy glanced at him and gave him a small, tight smile, looking almost sheepish. "Do you know it?"

"Been there a time or two," Hank said guardedly. "It's probably about another thirty minutes from here, depending on traffic and all."

"That's – Um, yeah, that's about what I thought." He took another swallow of the drink, not looking at Hank.

 _Guilty as hell_ , was Hank's immediate thought, for no discernable reason.

"If you don't mind me asking, why'd you stop here? You could've been halfway to Stars Hollow by now." Hank leaned his elbows onto the bar, studying the stranger more carefully. "Some reason you needed to stop for a little liquid courage before you got there?"

The guy had been in the midst of throwing back the rest of the drink and Hank's inquiry caused him to choke.

"No. I just…" The guy wheezed for a moment or two, trying to stop the coughing brought on by the Scotch going down the wrong way. Hank quickly filled a glass with water and sat it in front of him.

"Thanks," the lost traveler gasped out, his throat still in spasm. He gratefully drank most of the glass of water. "I just thought I'd be smart to stop somewhere for directions," he croaked, once he could form words again.

"Uh-huh." Hank shook his straight reddish-gray hair back out of his eyes, and folded his arms across his chest as he stared down the stranger. Call it intuition, street-smarts, or whatever you wanted to, but he wasn't buying that fuzzy explanation in the least.

"You see…I'm not…I'm not from here," the guy explained, unnecessarily in Hank's opinion. "I just wanted to make sure that I'm…" He stopped, his hands flattening against the top of the bar as he searched for words. "Could I get another one of those?" he asked, motioning towards his empty glass.

"Sure," Hank said, and his hands refilled the glass mostly without thought. He plunked it back down in front of the dark-haired, nervous stranger, and then settled himself there, too. He wasn't about to move until he got the whole story.

The guy blew out a huge breath, and then held out his hand abruptly, as if he'd suddenly made up his mind. "Daniel," he said, introducing himself.

Hank hesitated only slightly before bringing up his own hand. "Hank."

Daniel nodded in acknowledgement. He balled up his hands into fists, and then lightly knocked against the bar with them. All at once he laughed in disbelief, shaking his head. "I've never done anything like this before, ever. I'm not the type to do such a completely crazy thing. I'm the calm, sensible one. You can ask anybody."

Hank rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "Well, since I'm not 'anybody,' you'll have to tell me. What kind of crazy thing did you do, Daniel?" He stretched his fingers out so he could feel the reassuring outline of his cellphone in his shirt pocket. Just in case this guy really _was_ crazy.

"I was in Chicago this morning. On vacation. Visiting my family," Daniel tried to explain. "I was supposed to fly back today. I was in O'Hare, heading for my gate, and I…I just stopped. Some woman with about a dozen kids ran over my heels with a stroller."

"Uh-huh." That unexpected comic detail caused Hank's lips to twitch with a smile. "Go on."

"I…I realized then that I didn't want to go home," Daniel confessed, scrunching in his wide shoulders as he looked pitifully down at the bar. "There wasn't anything waiting for me at home," he added softly. "Nothing…and no one, either."

" _Ooh, boy_ ," Hank said, under his breath. "Then what?"

"So instead of flying home to Salt Lake, like I was supposed to, I found a ticket counter. I got a ticket to LaGuardia. I got on a plane. I don't–" Daniel cut himself off, shaking his head again. He plucked pitifully at the sleeve of his suit coat. "I don't even have any other clothes. They're on their way to Utah. The way I should be." He sighed and took a quick sip of his drink. "Instead I rented a car and started driving."

"Driving towards Stars Hollow," Hank said coldly, so coldly that it almost sounded like a threat. Although that hadn't been his intention, he was suddenly glad he'd said it the way he did.

"Um, yeah." Daniel frowned slightly at the hostile tone.

"And just what do you think you're going to do in Stars Hollow?" Hank pressed on, sounding even more belligerent.

Daniel looked genuinely alarmed by the bartender's bluster. "It's not a big deal, I just know about…There's this inn. The Dragonfly," he explained. "I thought I'd check it out, that's all."

Hank stepped up against the bar, making his blocky body look as intimidating as possible. "They've got a great chef there. That's why you're headin' to the Dragonfly, Daniel? Gonna get yourself a four-star meal there?" He absolutely meant for his silky sweet voice to highlight his aggressive stance.

Daniel leaned back on his bar stool, attempting to put a little distance between him and the suddenly prickly bartender. He hesitated before answering, his face showing the struggle to understand what was going on between them. "No," he replied, hesitantly. "I know someone there."

"You know someone there," Hank repeated levelly. "Who, Daniel? Who do you know?"

"The owner. The woman who owns the place. I know her."

"Lorelai," Hank clarified. He allowed himself a sarcastic chuckle. "Of course. Of course you'd know Lorelai."

Daniel's eyes widened with awareness. " _You_ know Lorelai?"

"I know Lorelai," Hank confirmed. "I know she's married. I know she's happy." He looked over this guy, the too-good-to-be-true guy, again. Danger signals pinged loudly in his head. "The last thing she needs is for some cowboy to be ridin' into town, making trouble for her when there shouldn't be any."

"I _know_ she's married," Daniel shot out, irritated. "I know she ended up marrying the same jerk who'd trampled all over her heart. She sent me a wedding invitation." Daniel made an obvious effort to curb his ire. "I crammed it through the paper shredder," he muttered, picking up his drink again.

Hank fought a grin at that. He'd had a similar impulse when he'd opened the pale pink invitation.

"I don't plan on making trouble," Daniel tried to explain. "I just want to see her. I just want to make sure that she's…that she doesn't–"

Hank spread his arms down along the bar and leaned in closer to Daniel. "That she doesn't miss you?" he asked, his voice dangerously low and mockingly sweet. "Let me enlighten you. She doesn't miss you."

Air hissed through Daniel's teeth. He rubbed a hand over his face. "I know she doesn't _miss_ me," he said heatedly. "I guess I just need to see it myself. That she's happy. That she didn't make a mistake."

"She didn't make any mistake." Hank gave his opinion without any reservation. God knows he'd had long enough to formulate it. "She's with who she's supposed to be with."

Daniel leaned forward in his seat, bending his head as some bitter laughter escaped. He straightened, and reached for his glass as he shook his head. "I don't know why she got under my skin the way she did. I only saw her twice," he confessed to the barkeeper.

"That's Lorelai's way," Hank agreed. "She's never met a stranger. Five minutes after you meet her you think she's your best friend."

"Can I tell you something completely insane?" Daniel wanted to know.

Hank looked at him skeptically. "Crazier than what you've already told me?"

That earned him a burst of genuine laughter. "Probably," Daniel chuckled. "I think it had something to do with the way we met. Like it was supposed to happen, or something. We just seemed to have this real connection from the first moment she sat down next to me. We could talk straight to each other right away. As ridiculous as it sounds, I really thought she was going to turn out to be the girl for me." Daniel grimaced and stabbed a finger at his chest. "Go ahead. Tell me I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy," Hank admitted grudgingly. "Lorelai jabbers a lot of nonsense, but if you can cut through all the chatty talk, you'll never find anyone warmer or friendlier or more loyal than she is. She cares about _everybody_. Sometimes it's hard to separate that 'caring for everybody' feeling from caring about _you_ , specifically."

"Yeah," Daniel sighed. Thoughtfully, he took a sip of scotch. "She was funny, and warm, and so open about her life. And when I met her, she was so incredibly sad. I mean, it actually hurt _me_ , to see her so sad."

"You looked into those sapphire eyes of hers, didn't you?" Hank sounded world-weary. "You looked into those eyes, and maybe they were even more blue than usual because she had some tears swimmin' around in them. And you thought you'd be the one to show her the way out of that sadness, didn't you?"

"Oh, good God," Daniel said, his head shooting up to stare at Hank in sudden understanding. "You're in love with her too."

Hank scoffed. "Right. The day a woman like Lorelai would look at a guy like me? That'd be a sign of the apocalypse, buddy."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But she got you too, didn't she?" Daniel looked smug. "That's why you know about the eyes. That's why you know about wanting to help her stop being sad." Daniel gave him another knowing look. "Admit it. You're in love with her too."

"Look, pal, I was the first one to point out to her that she was in love with Luke," Hank informed him. No need to mention how much it had hurt him the night he'd forced those words out.

" _Luke_ ," Daniel repeated with a sneer. "Mr. Wonderful."

Hank rubbed his temple with his thumb. "He is," he then said, with a shrug. "He's a great guy."

"Really?" Daniel asked sourly.

"Look, he realizes he almost lost the most important thing in the world. He knows he's the luckiest guy on the planet."

Daniel still looked like he didn't want to believe it. "He treats her OK?"

Hank shook his head, not sure how to sum up what he saw every time he was around them. He sighed, turning his palms up. "He'd die for her," he said simply, hoping Daniel understood that he wasn't being facetious at all. "He wouldn't even think about it. He just would, because she's everything to him." He met Daniel's stare until the other man looked away.

"So that's that." Daniel's moroseness was back.

"That's that," Hank agreed. He decided it wouldn't hurt to add in one more fact. "Did you know she's pregnant?"

"No." Daniel snorted a laugh, hanging his head down again. "Well, good for them, huh?"

"Yeah, good for them. She's due around Christmas time, I think."

"You think? You know," Daniel stated, pinning him with a look.

Hank's mouth quirked up on one side. "Yeah," he agreed, having been caught out. "I know."

"That woman has too much power," Daniel observed, taking another slug of the weakening drink. "Luring all of us poor, good-intentioned guys in with her siren's song."

Hank laughed heartily, his pale blue eyes almost closing as he did so. "Geez, man. I read that crazy-ass folktale too, after I met her."

"At least the only rocks I ended up on are these," Daniel observed, holding up his glass.

"Tell you what. Let me buy you a drink." Hank snatched up the glass and replenished it.

"To us – the survivors," Daniel said, saluting Hank with the glass.

"Listen, Daniel, don't go see her," Hank urged, anxious to get the problem settled. "You know, truthfully, she'd probably be thrilled to see you. She'd roll out the red carpet and make sure you had a great time. Luke would likely be suspicious, but chances are he wouldn't beat you up or run you out of town as long as he didn't think you were a threat to them. You showing up out of the blue wouldn't hurt her, but it wouldn't do you any good, man. Do yourself a favor. Let it go."

Daniel groaned but then reluctantly nodded in agreement. "You're probably right. I can't believe I flew all the way out here for nothing. I really am crazy." He glanced around at his surroundings before coming back to study Hank again. "How long do you think I've got before the TSA decides my unclaimed luggage is a threat and blows it up?"

"Hard to say. Don't you have anybody who could go pick it up for you?"

"Yet another piece of good advice you've given me." Daniel half-stood up and managed to get his phone out of a pocket. "At the very least I should let my staff know the boss won't be in tomorrow." He paused a moment and then raised his hand, offering Hank a firm handshake of friendship. "Thanks."

Hank nodded and moved off, giving him privacy for his call. In any case, the rush was beginning and he needed to wait on the newcomers who were settling at the bar.

While he took the first orders from the new customers, Hank recognized that it was going to be a long, hard night. Every pair of blue eyes was going to set him back. Any dark curls tumbling over a pink blouse was going to make regret pierce through his chest again. How many times was he going to look down at a napkin and remember the night her tears had spotted a similar one? Most of the time, now, he didn't think about her at all. But tonight, Daniel had brought it all back.

He was glad that Lorelai was happy. He was convinced that the absolute right thing for her was to be with Luke. But, damn – it was hard to let go of the fantasy when you thought for sure you'd found the perfect girl.

A full-throated laugh interrupted Hank's introspection. He looked up to see a skinny gal, one with frosted blonde highlights, on the stool next to Daniel. Hank didn't know much about her except that she was a lawyer. She came into the Liar's Club occasionally, but usually she kept to herself. Apparently Daniel's handsome charm was enough to even thaw her out. She was way too thin for Hank's taste, but he had to admit she was pretty, now that he finally saw her laughing and smiling.

"Hank!" Daniel called out to him. He rapped his knuckles on the bar and inclined his head towards the woman sitting next to him. "My new friend Nicole here would like a glass of white wine, please."

"Coming right up," Hank said amiably. A little harmless flirtation hurt wouldn't hurt either of them. At the very least, maybe she'd take Daniel's mind off of Lorelai for the rest of the night.

After all, it wasn't likely that these two random strangers would have much in common.


End file.
